Chasing The Clouds
by Hipster Girl With Glasses
Summary: She's the girl with a photographic memory, and a witness. He's the whiz with hacking computers. Her father's the one with billions to his name. She's trying to track him down, while he's trying desperately to avoid her father. When a chance meeting brings these two together, without them knowing who the other is, they might just end up chasing the clouds.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Austin & Ally, or anything else you may recognize in this story. All rights go to their respective owners.**

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><p>He was expecting to get in and get out. After of course, destroying Mr. Dawson's or "Lester's"—as his desktop computer username proclaimed—computer systems and stealing the only thing worth of value to him in this giant, oversized New York penthouse. As his computer hack wormed through Mr. Dawson's files and systems, Austin Moon, 17-year-old world-class computer hacker, felt a strange sense of pain at destroying this beautiful technology.<p>

It was state of the art, the newest in computer science. Austin had never seen a computer system up close like this before. Usually when he hacked a place, he knocked out the power system, like normal electricity and backup generators, security cameras, and of course, the computer systems. Everything and anything that could blow his cover was taken out. But for this hack, it needed to be different. There were guards, personal staff, and a façade for Austin to uphold for these people if he was to get out of here without being caught.

Austin was doing this to protect his own reputation. Lester Dawson was about to lose everything he was used to.

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><p>She was used to her dad working late. She had often fallen asleep to the sound of a computer keyboard clacking, or the glow of her dad's computer monitor shining under her door. Ally sat up, and looked at her alarm clock that sat on her nightstand. Three in the morning, and she was awake. Clearly, it was time for her father to get some sleep.<p>

Opening her bedroom door, she slipped out into the hallway. Her dad's study was across the hall. Although, it was not technically straight across from her room. The doorway was two inches right of her bedroom door. She stepped toward it, and raised her hand to knock on the door, but she thought better of it. It was better to slip in, and see what he was working on. Her father never let her see his latest projects.

Slowly, Ally turned the knob. The door silently slid open, and she slipped inside. "It's time to go to bed—" she started, but looking closer at the person sitting in the desk chair, Ally began to scream.

She had read about him online, when she had seen a press release her dad had been reading on this very computer. He was called Deathstroke, by the computer nerds online, because with a few keystrokes, his codes could do anything to anything that used power with a simple wi-fi connection. He could disconnect security cameras, turn off power, and the most advanced computer systems. He could have certain viruses only wipe away certain files, and even the entire hard drive could be wiped clean within seconds. He could even blow up the system altogether. Most people said the hard drive usually exploded, sparks flying, and starting massive fires if they weren't stopped in time. One place almost burned down due to the sparks hitting a nearby curtain. So, yes, of course, the media coined the name 'Deathstroke', naturally.

Even she didn't understand why he intrigued her so much. But now here he was, in her very own home. And she was scared.

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><p>He turned around abruptly in his—well, Lester's—desk chair. A girl, probably around his age, was standing there. She had just screamed, but she wasn't moving. She was just standing there, staring at him.<p>

He knew his cover was blown, and he should probably run. But as he turned away, he felt her gaze burning into his back. Austin pulled his ski mask down, so it covered his face. The girl probably didn't see his face anyway, the room was cast in shadows, besides the glow coming from the large computer monitor. And then he turned back around.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He couldn't see her face, she had shrunk back into the darkest part of the room, but she was wearing pajama pants with 'The Big Bang Theory' logo on them. He wasn't sure why he noticed this, exactly. But as long as she wasn't trying to stop him… Austin grabbed the keyboard off the desk and threw it at the nearest window.

The glass splintered, and cracked, but it didn't break. Austin didn't even care that it wasn't safe before he flung himself at the window. And when the window caved under his weight, and shards of glass were grazing past his fingers, and he felt like he was flying, all he could think about was 'Big Bang Theory' pajama pants. And how close the ground was getting.

Ally had seen his face. And she would remember it until the Earth stopped spinning, because, well—anything she saw, she remembered. It was part of having a photographic memory. It had its perks. And then it didn't.

She couldn't be wrong on tests or quizzes, and she had a 4.0 grade average. But the problem with her memory was that she had already graduated from high school, and that she had been taking college-level courses for three years—at 17 years old. She was tired of being smart, sometimes.

He had blonde hair and brown eyes. The darkness had added shadow to the depths of his face. A black ski cap sat on the top of his head, and he was wearing a black bodysuit and boots and gloves. Click. She remembered.

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><p>"Dad?" Ally asked. She was sitting on the floor of his study in the pitch black. Lester Dawson had gotten the call on the way home from his company headquarters. Deathstroke had been in his home and in his study where all his blueprints for his latest project were. His top-secret project, of course. And his daughter had been the one who found him. She was still scared, he could tell.<p>

"Dad, why was Deathstroke in our house?"

"I don't know, honey, maybe he just wanted some of my files, honey. You know my company has a bug launch next week." He was used to lying through his teeth by now. "Did you see his face?" Lester asked changing the subject.

Fortunately, Ally was used to lying through her teeth too—not that she knew her father was lying to her. "Nope. He saw me, and broke the window. He was wearing a ski mask and gloves. No fingerprints anywhere."

"Oh. Honey, are you sure?"

"Dad, am I ever wrong?"

"No, you aren't." He ruffled her hair affectionately.

"Dad, are the police still here?"

"Yes, sweetheart, they'd like you to answer a few questions."

"Before I do that, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, honey."

"I want to track down Deathstroke."

"That's not a question, Ally."

"Will you let me track him?"

"I told you it wasn't a question."

"Why?"

"Not up for discussion."

"Okay," Ally stood up, "I'll think I'll go answer their questions now.

"Ally!" he said finally, as she went into the hall, "Are you okay?" Lester got no response, just the wind blowing through his broken study window. He had a feeling he just lost his daughter.

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><p>Austin had landed safely on the ground. He had grabbed onto the nearest ledge and held on until his fingers were almost ripped off—thanks to a wonderful thing called gravity.<p>

Too bad that girl had interrupted him. He had almost destroyed the bionic file. But Lester Dawson still had it. But who was that girl? Was she one of the daughters of one of the staff members? Maid? Personal assistant? She had looked pretty young, even if he couldn't remember her face. She was the reason Lester Dawson hadn't lost everything—he still had to pay for his crimes.

A white van pulled up at the street corner. It paused right next to him. A ginger-haired boy, around the age of 19, pulled open the side door. "Rough night?" the boy asked.

He nodded back in response. Dez was the only one on Earth who understood him, and why he was doing what he did. The boy—Dez—held up a police scanner, and waved it teasingly in front of Austin's face. "Heard it all on here. Really, Austin? The Dawson penthouse?"

"It seemed like the right time. Dawson's company is planning a huge launch."

"So you knew he'd be working late?"

"Yeah, and obviously not at home. But someone had a different idea."

"Who?"

"A girl." Austin felt himself smile through his ski mask. Pausing, he said, "someone around our age."

"Oh, the elusive Ally Dawson!" Dez was looking even closer at him now.

"Ally Dawson?" he asked.

"Lester Dawson's daughter. The media knows her name, but otherwise, she's like Adele's son. Nobody has ever had a picture of her published in a magazine or a tabloid. She's elusive, dude. She blends in. That's the scary part. After her parents divorced, she spent some time with her mom, a famous author. But her mom's on a book tour right now, so it's very likely that she's with her father now."

He giggled at Dez. Actually giggled. That's how funny Dez usually was. "Are you stalking this girl, or something, Dez?"

"No, but it's on my bucket list to get the first photo of her published in a magazine." He laughed this time—but as always Dez sounded super serious.

"You know you have to keep a low profile now for a few months, right?" the boy said quietly.

Austin nodded. He shoved Dez forward playfully. "Now scoot over." He jumped in the van, shutting the door silently behind him.

"Time to head home." Dez started up the van, and drove up the quiet, dark, New York City street, where just five blocks over, the Dawson penthouse had been broken into by the infamous computer hacker, Deathstroke.

When Austin got home, he mumbled a "hello" to the night shift manager, Billl with three l's, in the lobby, and skipped out on the creaky old elevator that smelled like rotten eggs and sour milk, opting to take the stairs instead.

He lived on the third floor of the Aquarius Hotel, in apartment 3C. As soon as his key scraped in the lock, the apartment 3D door across the hall opened. He jumped reflexively. He was always jumpy after a mission.

'Relax,' he told himself, 'it's only Trish.' He turned around to face her. She was leaning against the doorframe, bubble gum in her mouth, and magazine folded in her hand. "Hey, Trish. What's up?"

"The manager came by again, Austin. He says that you need to find a roommate to pay the other half of your rent, or he's going to evict you in two months—that's the roommate grace period."

"Okay, Trish. Feel free to pass along the message."

"Sure. Hey, did you hear about Cassidy Amherst?"

"No, Trish, as usual."

"Well then, good night, Austin, or should I dare say—morning?" Trish was another one of Austin's acquaintances, a good friend of his. Only she didn't know that he was Deathstroke. The only person who knew that secret was Dez.

A bit on the plump size, and of Latina descent, Trish was feisty, but very lazy. She was barely able to keep one job for a week. Austin often wondered how she was able to pay all of her rent. At least once a day, she opened her door, and tried to talk to him from across the hall, and tried to talk about the latest gossip and rumors about celebrities and powerful people she had just read about in her newest tabloid. Trish was addicted to unconfirmed rumors, scandalous stories, and bad news reporting. Austin had gotten used to it.

Once inside, Austin slipped off his street clothes he had used to conceal his bodysuit disguise, and then peeled off the bodysuit. Changing into a plain white t-shirt and gray sweats, he flopped on his bed and wondered how he was ever going to get a roommate. He was good with computers, not people. And then again, not many people had a secret identity, either.

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><p><strong>So, this is my new story. I probably won't be adding any new chapters to it before my A&amp;A crossover with Percy Jackson is done, but I couldn't wait any longer because this idea was so awesome, and it was stuck in my head for months, so here it is! Please bear with me because I don't live in New York, or know relatively <strong>**enough about computers—although my dad works on them for a living. So review, follow, favorite!  
><strong>

**A shoutout in the next chapter to anyone who can tell me where the name "Deathstroke" really comes from!**


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